Dark Wizards Anonymous
by lucyhoneychurch
Summary: Harry, depressed and broken after a downward spiral into the dark arts, embarks on a journey to heal himself with the help of a certain redhaired American witch.........
1. Default Chapter

Dark Wizards Anonymous  
  
First Meetings  
  
"Hi, my name is Harry Potter and I'm a dark-magic addict," he said, his voice grim.  
  
"Good, Harry," the therapist, a pretty young American by the name of Willow Rosenberg said. "The first step is admitting that you have a problem."  
  
"But do I still have to introduce myself when you and I are the only ones in the room?" he winced in embarrassment, deciding to take advantage of the large couch he was sitting on, in Willow's office at St. Mungos and lying back.  
  
Willow nodded cheerfully. "Um-hm. Not only is it informative, but it's amusing for me to cause you embarrassment."  
  
Harry just shot her a sarcastic look and waited for her to tell him what to do next. This was his first meeting with this particular therapist, the seventh in a long line of doctors he had thrown away over the past few months after defeating Voldemort. They had all been either too interested in his fame, or too interested in the transference of powers that had come from Voldemort as he died, through the scar and into Harry. Indeed, Harry had had....difficulties after the final battle. Bad dreams, violent mood swings and pain from his scar had sent him on a downward spiral through the world of the dark arts in an attempt to ease the pain and take away the memories. He had only hit bottom when Remus and Sirius (taken back from the veil a year ago mysteriously, Harry still didn't know who had done that) had caught up with him at Godric's Hollow, about to bring his dead parents back to life. He had broken down, but not shattered and his friends and family had insisted that he get some help. He had agreed, not liking the looks of fear that had shown up on even his closest friends faces. All but Hermione and Ron that is. Seeing the problems he was having finding reliable help, Hermione recommended Willow Rosenberg, one of her colleagues at St. Mungos, to him.  
  
Willow was an American witch who had apparently been where he had been, something that none of the other therapists he had visited could say. This was comforting for Harry in a world where he was aware of constantly being judged for his dark actions. Even at the Ministry where he worked as an Auror, they were afraid of him DESPITE the fact that the reason why he had gone on his dark magic binge was because he had been defeating Voldemort. Never mind that he had saved the world from his menace. No, Harry had returned from that first bout of rehabilitation right after his breakdown to find that his field position had been changed to a desk job.  
  
And that was why he was here. The Ministry had promised him that if a psychiatrist pronounced him fit for fieldwork, then he would be allowed his old job back.  
  
"So, Harry, tell me about yourself," Willow prompted quietly, breaking the wizard in front of her out of his inner musings.  
  
"What do you want to know?" he asked sullenly. Apparently he had been wrong. All his other sessions had started out this way and none of them had gone well, usually ending with him leaving early in anger, his eyes black and his skin gone pale and veiny. The first time it had happened, Sirius and Remus, who had moved in with him after his breakdown at his request, had had to calm him down, eventually resorting to the tranquilizers that Hermione had sent over for such occasions. The problem with these was that they generally did more harm than good, sending Harry into a drugged and unnaturally happy stupor. Indeed, he generally looked and felt stoned after he took them.  
  
Willow shrugged. "I've read your file, I've talked to Hermione. I know the basics so let's just cut through the first few years and get to the root of the problem. What's on your mind?"  
  
Harry looked at her in shock, sitting up on the couch. Not one of the therapists in the last few months had approached a session in this manner. He liked it, but shrugged in return, not wanting her to know how impressed he was by her candour and rapport as a doctor. "Not much. That's the problem."  
  
Willow listened intently, leaning back in her chair. "Why's that?"  
  
Harry shrugged again, lying down again. "I'm having trouble feeling...anything. Before, it was different. At least I felt pain. That's what drove me to do what I did, to end the pain. But now...people look at me different, like they're afraid. I don't know how to reassure them that's not going to happen again, well, probably not."  
  
Willow nodded, understanding completely. "Hermione was telling me that Voldemort transferred all his powers to you before he died? How're you dealing with that?"  
  
Harry let out a harsh laugh. "I'm not. I don't think it's hit me yet, even after months of dealing with it. It's starting to though, slowly." He turned on his side to prop himself up on an elbow. "They all look at me funny you know. As if they expect me to take his place."  
  
"And how do you feel about that?"  
  
"I'm embarrassed, scared that they're right. What if they are?" He dropped his eyes to the floor. "What did Hermione tell you about me by the way?" He asked, changing the subject.  
  
Willow raised an eyebrow in his direction. Changing the subject. She would come back to that one later and deal with it. For now, she would indulge him. After all, this was just their first session. "That you were one of her two best friends. The more levelheaded one if I remember correctly. That you had had quite possibly the worst thing happen to you in the last year and that you needed my help." She was silent a moment, letting her words sink into the room. "And that with my past I'm probably the best person for the job."  
  
"Yes, I'd heard about that," Harry murmured.  
  
"At least you didn't try to end the world. Raising your parents from the dead was childs play comparatively and there lies the hope. You came back from it, which, contrary to popular belief, is easier said than done, even with supporting friends and family. You're going to get better and I'm here to help you do that." She said softly. "Now then, where were we?" she looked down at the notes she had taken. "Ah yes. There." She looked back up at him. "Let's talk about Voldemort. 


	2. Meddling

Meddling 

Hello all. I know I've taken a long time to add to this story…sorry for the wait, but 'Glamours' has taken a lot of my time. At any rate, here's a new chapter. I'm setting up the plot for future events so don't be angry at the lack of action and the abundance of conversation in this part. 

I'd also like to thank one of my new Betas, Kristen, for looking over this chapter before I put it online…perhaps my grammatical errors will improve now…LOL

Enjoy and please review…I love feedback.

I also have a yahoogroup if you're interested: 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry Potter slammed the door as he entered the kitchen and winced at the sound it made as it banged against the doorframe of his home. He was feeling rattled, but in a good way. Things had gotten a little…intense near the end of the session. They had talked about Voldemort, what his death meant to Harry and how this was affecting his life. She had gotten him thinking about why he had become an Auror. What the friendship he had with Ron and Hermione meant to him. The list went on and on, and on more than one occasion he was embarrassed to say, he had even been on the verge of tears as the weight of what he had done was lifted temporarily off his shoulders and blessed comfort had taken over. Hermione had been right. He would have to send her something to thank her for the recommendation of her friend. Indeed, Harry hadn't felt this good in a long time.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked softly from the doorway to the kitchen, his face lifting in a smile as he noticed that Harry didn't appear to be as agitated as he normally was after spending a two-hour session in therapy. 

"Hmmm?" Harry's thoughts were broken as Remus asked his question.

"How'd it go? Good I'd imagine since you're still yourself." Remus held up the tranquilizer potion that Hermione had sent over. "Won't be needing this I suppose."

Harry shook his head, smiling gently. "It was actually…great. She listened, didn't judge, and didn't care about how famous I am in the Wizarding world. She just wanted to help." He frowned suddenly. "Where's the owl-order catalogue gotten to?"

Remus pointed to the odds and ends drawer next to the silverware drawer. "Since when do you use owl-order?" he frowned, retrieving the catalogue and watching as Harry sat down at the kitchen table and flipped through to the flower section. 

"Daisies, perfect," he murmured, taking out his moneybag and placing the seal onto the appropriate spot on the catalogue.

"Er Harry, are you sending your doctor flowers?" Remus asked in a confused voice.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "No, Hermione. I need to thank her for an excellent recommendation. I haven't felt this good in ages."

Sirius walked in on them at this point. "Good to hear Harry my boy. Good to hear." He sat down on the table at the table and cocked an eyebrow in Harry's direction. "So, was she hot?"

"Sirius!" Remus scolded, sitting down at the table with them, watching for Harry's reaction.

"What?" Sirius defended himself. "He's in a good mood, doesn't want to work the dark mojo or anything. He's a Potter, so it must be a woman if he feels this good." He turned back to Harry. "So?"

A slow smile climbed onto Harry's face. He debated telling Sirius what she looked like. No, he'd tell him. "Yeah. She's hot. Not that it matters." He tagged this last bit on at the end in an attempt to preserve Willow's good name. "The session was very helpful. I was just telling Remus that. She's a great therapist."

"And easy on the eyes apparently…"Sirius added. "What does she look like?"

Harry shrugged. "Red hair, hazel eyes. About 5'8 or so. Petite."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and looked up at Remus, a grin on his face. "Now who does that sound like to you Moony? I'm getting a distinct feeling of déjà vu…"

Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius made his own déjà vu in many cases, going so far as to trying to set up Ginny and Harry only a month ago. But this… Harry beat him to the sarcastic retort that was on his lips.

"Sirius, haven't you ever heard of doctor/patient confidentiality? A professional relationship? And while we're on the subject, just what is it about you trying to set me up with redheads? I mean, Ginny was just the last in a long string of girls with red hair that you've done this with."

Sirius looked contemplative for a moment, stroking his jaw in thought before answering. "For the last 7 generations Potters have married redheads Harry. It's just a fact. Must be in the genes or something…"

He broke off then, leaving Harry with a shocked look on his face. 

"You're trying to find me a wife?! What is this, the 1800's?!"

"Not a wife…well, maybe…just…someone…" Sirius stammered in rare insecurity.

"Now Harry, Sirius was just trying to help…" Remus said softly, sensing that Harry was on the verge of needing a tranquilizer.

"This is not the way to help me," Harry sighed, looking at it from a diplomatic point of view. They WERE only trying to help. But that didn't change the fact that he didn't need it. Especially not now when everything around him was changing so fast. Indeed, he had received an owl from a concerned Dumbledore. He was being offered the Defence position at Hogwarts. This, Harry felt certain, was only to assuage the old mans guilt at ignoring the signs that the Boy-Who-Lived was having serious emotional issues after the fall of Voldemort and the advent of Harry's new 'skills.' It seemed that everyone wanted to help but no one was doing anything constructive. Except for Dr. Rosenberg. Now SHE had done something no one else had tried: she had listened and she hadn't judged. Moreover she hadn't gone white in fear at what he had been through and the realization of the kind of power he was now able to wield. Harry internally winced at the memory of Dr. Porter, who had actually asked him to leave once he had realized what Harry had done and what he was now capable of doing. 

Now was not the time to think of this. No, now he had to convince Sirius to stop matchmaking for him. Indeed, he was in no place emotionally now to deal with another person. "Look, I appreciate the thought but…I'm a mess right now," Harry laughed humourlessly. "The last thing I need is a relationship on top of everything else…"

Sirius looked apologetic. "Sorry. I was just trying to help."

Harry gave him a half-smile. "I know. Thanks, but I'm no good for anyone right now," he cleared his throat. "In fact, it's probably safer if I just be alone for a bit." He was silent for a moment, the weight of the day and the lethargy that came along with it suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks. He didn't feel like talking anymore. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day and I'm tired."

"Sleep well Harry," Remus murmured as the 26 year old got up and went to his room in the 3-bedroom home they shared, wincing as the door slammed, successfully denying what Harry had said about being alright with what Sirius had been trying to do for him. He sighed and exchanged a concerned look with the animagus. Harry was still hurting but at least now he had a doctor that he liked. Perhaps this would knock him out of the funk he was in. They could only hope.

          "So how was it?" Hermione asked as Willow apparated into the two-bedroom flat they shared in Diagon Alley. Indeed, she and Willow had met at Oxford when she was finishing magical mediwitch training, and Willow had been her roommate in the dorms, although Willow had been going into the field of psychiatry. Nonetheless, this hadn't stopped the two from becoming fast friends, moving in with each other after they had moved out of the dorms almost a year ago and starting work at St. Mungos. Hermione had specialized in obstetrics, having been completely turned off of magical maladies and injuries after having become the makeshift mediwitch during the final battle with Voldemort. So now, instead of observing the effects of others trying to take life out of the world, she helped bring it in. 

"Good," Willow sighed as she sank down into the plush cushions of the couch next to her best friend. "He wasn't what I expected; he was nothing like you described him to be."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He's so depressed, troubled. The way you described him, I expected him to be more…healed I guess…than the state he was in today." Willow took the glass of wine that the brunette handed to her.

"Well, he hasn't exactly had much luck with doctors…and he's obviously putting on a braver face for us I guess…." Hermione broke in awkwardly, ashamed that she hadn't noticed the deeper pain in Harry that Willow had apparently seen today.

"Yes I know," Willow looked confused. "It's just…I see myself in him. After Tara that is…it's difficult I guess." She looked up and smiled at Hermione, who knew all about Tara. "I've been there before."

"And you got through it," Hermione murmured, remembering when Willow had told her about her own journey into the depths of the Dark Arts and returning from it, mentally asking the unspoken question of whether Harry would too, the concern for one of her best friends placing doubt in her mind.

"Yes. Yes I did. And so will he," she answered the unspoken question assertively and meaning it.

Suddenly, a tapping on the window broke into their conversation. Hermione got up quickly, setting her wine onto the coffee table and grabbing the jar of owl treats that they left on the mantle for just these occasions. 

"Hello there," she said in greeting to the light brown barn owl that flew through the window, perching happily on top of Willow and Hermione's kitchen counter, a bouquet of flowers strapped to its neck. "And who are those from?" The owl raised a leg up to reveal a card. Hermione took it off carefully and opened it, smiling as she saw whom it was from. "Harry," she murmured quietly. 

"Who're they from? A particularly thankful patient?" Willow got up and went to stand next to her friend. Indeed, having not heard her friend's quiet murmur of Harry's name, her hypothesis as to the sender of the flowers would probably been correct. Their apartment was generally littered in gifts of quilts, baked goods, pictures of newborns and other assorted objects that Hermione's happy patients would send her in thanks. Willow's patients were generally far too ashamed of having to see a psychiatrist in the first place to acknowledge their healing with a gift to their doctor.

"In a way," Hermione smiled, unwrapping the bouquet and handing the owl a treat. Her smile broadened as she took in the daisies in front of her. Her favourites. She opened the card, shooting Willow a mischievous grin as she quickly read what the Boy-Who-Lived had written her, and began to read aloud. "Dear Hermione, thank you so much for your referral to Dr. Rosenberg. It was wonderful to speak to someone who didn't judge, stare at my scar, or insist on telling them of the inner workings of the power transferral. This is the best I've felt in a long time. (Remus would probably want me to tell you that I didn't even need the tranquilizer you sent over today…that's a first, but I'm sure you already know that) Hope you enjoy the daisies…I remember that they're your favourites, and thanks again for the excellent referral. Harry. P.S. Be sure to drop by sometime ok? I've missed you and Ron…maybe lunch next week at 'The Three Broomsticks' like old times? Let me know…"

Hermione looked up at Willow and stared incredulously at her. "What'd you do that was so different from the rest of the doctors?" she said accusingly, "He ALWAYS needs the tranquilizers after a session." With an amazed sigh, she gave the owl on the counter another treat and watched as it gave a hoot of thanks before flying out the window. Silently, she walked to the kitchen and took out a vase, filling it with water for the daisies.

Willow shrugged in puzzlement, watching as her friend performed these short tasks before sitting down on the couch. "I don't know. I just listened, directed him sometimes I guess but for the most part I let him talk. It seemed to do him good." She sighed, moving to the couch and sitting down next to Hermione. "That's what I always do on the first meeting, to gauge how much work is to be done and how many emotional walls I have to knock down before we get somewhere. Harry seemed to need someone to listen, not tell him what he should do, so I did that."

"Willow, you don't understand," Hermione continued in amazement. "Not only has he been dependent on those tranquilizers after every session, but he hasn't let anyone but Sirius and Remus come near him since it happened, let alone INVITED Ron or I to have lunch with him…this is an unprecedented breakthrough."

A small smile spread over Willow's face. She had expected as much judging by the feelings of despair and utter loneliness that had radiated off of Harry during their meeting. She hadn't known however that Harry was using the tranquilizers so much. She'd have to deal with that at their next session…


	3. Engulfing Darkness

**DWA Chapter 3- Engulfing Darkness**

Hello all. Just so you're all aware, I have a yahoogroup and here's the address:

http: groups. yahoo. com/ group/ firegoddess HPBtVS fanfiction/

(the URL hasn't been posting lately so I had to put it in the chapter this way. Please disregard the spaces. It's a regular URL)

At any rate, let it be known that I've also sent the next chapter of Permanent Mistakes to my betas. It should be out within the next 48 hours or so.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Hermione tells me she's been giving you tranquilizers for your….anger issues," Willow began hesitantly and neutrally 5 minutes from the end of the session, knowing that the answer from the patient she had only been seeing for the last three weeks would probably be defensive and most likely volatile.   
  
Indeed, she had been hesitant to bring the subject up but her roommate had been quick to point out any changes in Harry's behaviour, an increase in his order of tranquilizer potion being one of them. In truth, Willow didn't know what was happening with Harry. Well, that wasn't quite true. She knew exactly what was happening because she had been through it herself. The return to what was once a life you cherished but now was tainted with dark memories was always a difficult transition.  
  
The sessions -held twice weekly- had been going well until about a week ago when she started to notice an irritability in her patient that wasn't normally there. Willow knew that the situation at home and at work had become grim for the Boy-Who-Lived, but ever since that first session she had gotten the feeling that Harry was eager to heal, to get back to his normal life.  
  
His normal life apparently didn't want him back though. According to what Harry had told her today, the Ministry was still deathly afraid of him, he had had a Sunday dinner just the past weekend with the Weasley's that had NOT gone well, and to make matters worse his godfather, from what Willow understood, had not let up on Harry's love life at all, subsequently setting him up forcefully with two women in the past two weeks -both redheads. All in all, a bad situation and one that Willow could understand why he would need the extra medication.  
  
The problem lay in the fact that the medication was so easily addictive. The more the patient took of it, the less effect it had, and the more the patient had to take. Willow herself had battled with this in her own recovery when she was in England with Giles. Needless to say, it hadn't been pretty and ever since she had become a therapist she had relied on other remedies for treating her patients. That had been until Harry had come into her life. Indeed, Harry's problems could rival her own in their severity and their ultimate attribution to his dark magic use.  
  
It hadn't been like Harry had had a choice in the matter for one. Like Willow, his magic had grown out of necessity to the situation. For Willow, it had been Glory and later Buffy that had demanded that she extend herself to branches of magic she wouldn't have normally traveled. For Harry it had been Voldemort, a man that Willow knew still held Harry's life in his hands.  
  
Indeed, for a dead man, Voldemort still held remarkable sway within Harry's life, causing him to question his own identity and ultimately create more problems for Willow as she sought to unravel the mysteries of Harry's head and help him heal. No such luck, especially if he continued to be so dependent on the tranquilizers Willow and Hermione had been providing him with to stave off any future dark magic attacks from within.  
  
On the couch, Harry shrugged sullenly at his therapist's implications that he used too many tranquilizers. He had had a bad day. No surprise there. Every day had been bad lately. At work, things had progressed further from the fear factor prevalent within his co-workers and supervisors. Indeed today, he had received his own office, a step up from the cubicle all the aurors had but a step down in the fact that it was on the other side of the building in the research department, and ultimately, far away from his fellow aurors.   
  
When he had gotten home that evening Sirius had announced that he had set Harry up with yet another redhead, and now his therapist, however good intentioned, had the gall to question his use of the medication that was the only thing keeping him from taking those black magics he was now endowed with and killing everyone who had ever looked at him with fear in their eyes. Harry's mouth quirked slightly at this oxymoron. That kind of response would defeat the purpose entirely.  
  
"Harry," Dr. Rosenberg continued, a little more firmly this time. "You must work on your dependency issues to the tranquilizer potion. You could become addicted to it and that, I'm sad to say, requires far more work to come back from than it's worth."  
  
Harry turned an annoyed look to his therapist. "Whatever."  
  
After all, what did she know about the pain his life was right now? She had a job, whereas he was about to quit his. She had a loving significant other, whereas Harry was still being set up on blind dates and most importantly, she had won her battle with the dark arts whereas he was only starting his. Truth be told, Harry was certain that his pain was far more significant than whatever she may or may not have been through, despite the fact that he really had no idea what exactly had set her off. Quite frankly, he didn't care; he was paying good money for her to heal him as quickly as possible and goddamnit, if the tranquilizers were the way to a healthier Harry faster, then he would take that route gladly.  
  
"Harry, I'm serious," Willow continued, her resolve face on.   
  
With a sigh, as she took in the sullen stubborn look on her patients face, she continued on, knowing that he would hate what she was about to tell him. "I've told Hermione to stop making it for you and St. Mungos will no longer be available to fill prescriptions of that nature either."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. But what if he couldn't do it? What then? "Excuse me?"  
  
"It's for your own good," she said, continuing onward despite the shell-shocked look on Harry's face. "Now, just use the anger management skills we've been practicing and you should be fine." 

"But what if something happens?" Harry started desperately, afraid of what might occur with a cold-turkey him running around.  
  
"I'm on the floo network and, as I live with Hermione, you obviously know where to find me should you have any problems," Willow said softly. "Now I know you've been under a lot of stress lately, but relying on the potion is never a good thing, even under those circumstances."  
  
"But," he tried again, knowing that she would be unyielding in her decision but secretly grateful for her dedication to cure him when the other doctors hadn't. He was still afraid he might do something horrible though.  
  
"No buts," Willow finished, glancing at her watch. It was time for the session to end. "I'll see you next week?"  
  
Harry, not knowing what to say, simply nodded before getting up and leaving. Hindsight being 20/20, he should have demanded another half hour of Dr. Rosenberg's time if only to try to prevent the dreams and nightmares that had been plaguing him for the last week and a half. Dreams could be good influences on a person's wellbeing, but for Harry Potter they were eating him alive, forcing him not only to look at his own past but Voldemort's too. At any rate, his foul mood due to his absolutely awful day and the subsequent cutting off of his only source of sanity in his insane world would prove to be too much for him.  


* * *

He must be dreaming, for this was too horrible a scene to be real, Harry thought as he stood in the middle of the graveyard watching as Voldemort came up upon his unsuspecting parents, who for some reason were re-enacting their deaths on their own graves. Indeed, Baby Harry was there too, sitting firmly against his mother's chest in her vain attempt to get them away from the ever approaching Dark Lord.  
  
With a roar of anger at what was about to occur, Harry rushed forward, intent on stopping the tragedy before it happened. Suddenly the horrible tableau in front of him stopped, freezing his parent's frantic voices and bodies, at least for the moment.  
  
"What do you think you're doing Potter?" Voldemort sneered, finally noticing that Harry was there and turning his wand upon him menacingly.   
  
Harry reached down for his own wand and suddenly realized that he didn't have it. He would have to rely upon his wandless magic skills, ill-gained in his final battle with the thing standing in front of him.  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked in a confused voice, unsure of why he was arguing with Voldemort when he very well could be destroying the creature before he destroyed his parents and the happy childhood that Harry had never been able to experience because of said deaths.  
  
"Trying to stop me," Voldemort clarified in a smooth, confidant voice. "You know you can't. This is meant to happen."  
  
"No it's not," Harry protested weakly, knowing deep down that it HAD happened and that this dream he must be having was only that-a dream. That didn't mean that he couldn't try to change what had happened. "They were meant to live, but you took that away from them."   
  
"No, you took that away from them," Voldemort continued, motioning to the scene in the graveyard that had suddenly come back to life.  
  
Harry watched in horror as another figure clothed entirely in black robes with a hood covering his face strode arrogantly into the area and drew his wand, yelling the death curse at Lily and James Potter angrily. With dull thumps, they fell onto the ground in front of their graves limply, dead.  
  
The person in black turned, motioning to the now dead bodies of Harry's parents. "Seductive isn't it?" He drawled in an unrecognizable voice as he strode up to Harry and Voldemort and stood directly in his face, but not close enough for the Boy-Who-Lived to get a glimpse of his visage. "The way that life can be shut off so abruptly? Don't you miss that power?"   
  
"No, not really," Harry said coolly, more disturbed by what he had just seen then anything he had ever seen or remembered of the actual murders of his parents.  
  
The man in front of him broke off into eerie laughter at this and stepped back to stand next to Voldemort, shocking Harry once more as he suddenly morphed with the Dark Lord to become the same person before moving over to where Baby Harry sat between his dead parents. He picked him up gently, cooing softly to the agitated baby in a deceptively innocent way and walked back over to where Harry still stood, removing his hood as he did so.  
  
"Lying to ourselves again aren't we?" said the man who, to Harry's unending shock and dismay, was himself.  


* * *

He woke up with a gasp, a fine sheen of cold sweat covering his battle hardened body and shaking visibly. Disgusted with the route his dream had taken, and still feeling the rush as his other dark self had killed his parents, he got up and went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water.

With a sigh of weariness and frustration, he threw himself into the kitchen, gasping yet again as he caught a look of himself in the reflection of the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door. He had lost control again, his eyes having glazed over black and his skin gone pale and dark with the veiny facade of his alter ego. The funny part was that he didn't feel like he had lost control. His thoughts were broken as a wave of dark magic pulsated seductively over his body, causing him to shiver with the eroticism it provided, the feelings it conjured with him. He had to get some help before he lost it completely and hurt himself, or worse, someone else.  
  
Suddenly, Harry heard a fuzzy voice breaking through the numbing pleasure the darkness was having over him.  
  
"Harry?" Remus asked awkwardly, having heard the disturbance in the hallway and coming to investigate the noises being created by the unknown source.   
  
Now he almost wished he hadn't, but he quickly squashed these feelings as he took in the sight of his best friend's son, obviously in the midst of another attack, but not knowing what to do for him. Indeed, he never knew how Harry was going to react when he got like this and that made it all the more difficult to offer any comfort beyond the usual medication.  
  
"Yes Remus?" Harry said in a calm but distracted voice.  
  
"Do you need a tranquilizer, or are you okay?" the werewolf asked softly, going to the cupboard above the sink for the ever-present vials of the calming potion that Harry had been relying upon since his brush with the bowels of darkness.  
  
Harry shook his head violently, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table and knowing that the tranquilizer potion that was left had to be conserved. Damned if he was going to use it on his first night going cold turkey. "No, I'm not okay. But I'm not taking anymore potions."  
  
"Harry," Remus said warningly, knowing full well that if he didn't get Harry down from the dark high he was on that the power would just keep building until the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't be able to fight it anymore.

"Just give me a moment," Harry shuddered as yet another wave of magic was drawn to him. For some reason it always happened this way.   
  
The magic was being drawn to him almost magnetically until he was forced into losing what little   
control he had upon his system and doing something very stupid. He knew only one thing that would be able to calm him at this point and that was the tranquilizers. But Willow had told him only that morning that he had to kick his dependency on them. Until he did this, the attacks would become harder and harder to fight as he became immune to it. Other than that, Harry didn't have anything to turn to, or anyone. Or did he?  
  
Remus didn't like the look of this. Harry was more on edge than he had ever seen him. Maybe he should call someone. Sirius was gone for the evening after all, having been scheduled to meet with Dumbledore over something. He didn't want to though. Indeed, Dr. Willow Rosenberg had given Remus, as one of Harry's closest friends, permission to floo her anytime and anywhere if things started to get out of control. She knew how quickly that could happen and was probably the only one capable of having the same effect as the tranquilizers. He just never thought it would come to this. Whatever had happened to Harry that night, it must have been something big. He should call her now it seemed, before Harry lost it completely. With shaking hands, Remus quickly moved out of the room to the living room and flooed the one person he had never hoped he'd have to floo.


	4. Salvation

Chapter 4: Salvation  
Hello all. Well, it certainly has been awhile since I've posted anything. You'll all be pleased to note then that not only are you getting another chapter of this story tonight, but quite possibly another chapter of Hidden Truths tomorrow. It's at my beta's right now. At any rate, enjoy and remember, I've still got a yahoogroup:

http: groups. yahoo. com/ group /firegoddess HPBtVS fanfiction/

* * *

Willow was awakened by the sound of Hermione answering the floo in the living room. That in itself was weird. Generally they just let the floo go in the evenings if Hermione wasn't on-call or, worst case scenario because of Hermione's hectic schedule, Willow would get it. After all, Willow worked a 9 to 5 day whereas Hermione's shifts could last anywhere from the middle of the night to whenever, to her regular office hours.  
  
She turned over and moaned softly as the noises in the living room got louder. Her half-wakened state was pushed into full awareness though as the door to her room was slammed open and a frantic Hermione rushed to the bedside.  
  
"Willow, wake up," Hermione demanded loudly and firmly.  
  
"What do you want Hermione?" Willow moaned again, burying her head back into her pillow and making an effort to drown out her roommates insistent voice with the sound of her own snores, (of course this was assuming that she could fall back to sleep, which Hermione seemed intent of preventing at all costs).

"Willow, it's Harry," Hermione said frantically, sounding far more terrified then Willow had ever known her best friend to be.  
  
"What about Harry?" Willow asked, suddenly all ears for what Hermione had to say. Indeed, she knew that with Harry's vivid dreams and the new effort they were taking to eliminate the potions from his darkness management that he would have issues. She hadn't been expecting to deal with these issues so soon however.  
  
"There's been an…incident," Hermione said quietly, scared.  
  
"What kind of incident?" Willow inquired hesitantly.  
  
Hermione was silent a moment. "Remus says that it's like he was before he..."  
  
"Before he tried to raise his parents?" Willow finished gravely.  
  
Her roommate nodded. "Um-hm. The magic…it seems to be coming to him. And he can't control it."  
  
Willow nodded, throwing back the covers and getting up. "Well that tends to happen. It's called withdrawal. I went through it myself. The first month is the worst but it gets better." She paused, her brow furrowing as she went to her closet and took out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Apparently the doctor was making house calls tonight.  
  
"Willow, you don't get it. HE'S DARK AGAIN. And it's not going away like the other times! Apparently he's now going through the house sucking the magic out of all the spell books," Hermione ranted, enraged by the lack of concern her room mate was showing for one of her best friends. "He's going to hurt someone!"  
  
"Only if they get in his way," Willow mused as she pulled the shirt over her head.  
  
"Willow, I'm serious!" Hermione ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. "The last time the magic was gravitating toward him the way Remus described it to me, he lost it. Hit rock bottom. And you're saying we should just wait for it to get better?! Merlin Willow, what did you do to him?"  
  
"OK," Willow deadpanned; collecting the anger Hermione's accusing comments had risen in her, placing them in a box in her mind to be forgotten. Hermione after all was not aware of Harry's growing addiction to the tranquilizers, only that Willow had asked her to stop supplying him with it. "That's enough," she paused, sighing deeply before breaking the harsh reality to Harry's concerned friend. "He's addicted to the tranquilizers. This afternoon's session was not good. He didn't take my new strategy for his recovery well."  
  
Willow met Hermione's eyes. "Now he's fighting two addictions: Dark magic and the tranquilizers to defend against it."  
  
With another sigh, she took in Hermione's shocked expression and continued. "Hermione, he's got to fight this on his own now. I can only do so much. You and Ron are going to need to play a big part in his recovery though. Despite what he tells you, you may ultimately be the reason why he doesn't lose himself for good." Willow paused, contemplating the other factors she would have to deal with. His job for instance. Sirius and his matchmaking attempts. All the Weasley's excluding Ron. All unnecessary stress would have to go. But for now, she had to deal with the most pressing issue, bringing Harry back from the dark magic high he was on, induced by his own mind and the now melding of a combination of both Voldemort and himself that quite frankly seemed intent on torturing itself through its own masochistic tendencies. It also didn't help that Harry's 'id' now was an amalgam of all the bad thoughts and inclinations both be and Voldemort were capable of thinking up.  
  
Harry was a lot like Angel in the way that had worked out. Like Angel, Harry had a tangible demon living inside himself but unlike Angel, there was not way for Willow to exorcise or displace it. Voldemort was now a part of Harry. Willow's brow furrowed as this thought passed through her mind. Oh she probably could but that would leave the threat of the Dark Lord out in the open. With his spirit living within Harry, both the wizarding world and Harry himself were safe. With Harry, eventually the Dark Lord would die. Although Willow sincerely hoped that this would occur a LONG time from now, with any luck quietly, in his own bed, and surrounded by many grandchildren.  
  
But it seemed that he was putting up a fight in the meantime. Willow shook her head and motioned the still stunned and extremely guilty Hermione out of her bedroom to the fireplace. The Dark Lord did indeed live inside Harry. It was the stress, the weariness of spirit that was causing the problems though. Voldemort was trying to get free the only way he had ever been able to effectively and consistently torture the boy who lived- through his dreams. After all, Harry couldn't guard his mind all the time and that ultimately would be his downfall. That is if he succeeded in pushing everyone away the way he had been doing. Friends helped keep you sane, made you live longer. Buffy was a prime example of this.  
  
"Willow?" Hermione broke her out of her internal musings, "You ready?"  
  
Willow nodded, watching as Hermione disappeared into the floo. She sighed again as she stepped into the fireplace and threw down the floo powder while saying her destination aloud. Here went nothing.

* * *

"Harry," Willow started awkwardly as she approached the dark wizard in front of her, feeling the power radiating over her from the anger and rage that he had released through what Remus had told her was a nightmare. Willow understood the effect that such things could have on the control of dark magic in general. She had been through it herself.  
  
She just wished she knew what she was doing. After all, she was powerful, on par in fact with Voldemort and subsequently now Harry but that didn't mean that when faced with an equal she couldn't feel fear. And Harry was certainly instilling fear within her at this time. She inwardly grimaced. This might be an occasion to whip out the big guns, i.e. her own dark magic but that came with all sorts of negative connotations in itself. Hermione, Remus, and Sirius, (who had returned home shortly after Willow had arrived), had never seen her at her worst and that was a problem. Granted her worst was not as bad now as her worst after Tara; she could control and use her anger productively as well as channel the earth magic that she now used. Burn-out was a practically non-existent thing for her but her frail human body could still fall victim to exhaustion, every Wicca's enemy. And, while she sincerely hoped that Harry would be easily controlled, she was prepared to pull a Giles on him to get the job done.  
  
"OK Harry, let's just calm down," Willow tried again, watching as Harry fought back a wave of dark energy before shuddering and closing his eyes.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked in an eerily calm voice.

"Trying to help you," Willow answered, sitting down at Harry's kitchen table and watching as Harry stopped pacing and laughed.  
  
"Help me?" He gave her an amused look. "You're just a second rate Wicca who couldn't make it in the muggle world and turned to the wizarding world as a last ditch attempt to be a real witch." He chuckled softly. "Like you could help me. Do you know who I am?"  
  
"You're Harry Potter," Willow drawled, standing up and walking towards him. "Scared little boy who's hiding his fear of everything behind his anger."  
  
Harry was silent a moment at this comment, glaring angrily at Willow. Seeing this, she continued her verbal assault on the irate wizard in front of her. Truthfully, she WANTED him to get angry. The chances of him doing something impulsive or stupid increased if he was angry at her. She smirked, remembering how Giles had tricked her that way. With a sigh and a widening grin, she reached into the bag she carried and brought out a flask. It was laced with a potion that would strip Harry of the dark energy that was currently threatening to consume him. Liquid courage indeed. That is if he took the bait like she had when she had been on her own high after Tara. All that was left was for her to drink it.  
  
"Liquid courage?" Harry smirked. "You're going to need it little girl."  
  
"You know," Willow started, twisting the cap off the flask and taking a long gulp, wincing as the foul taste almost made her gag. "This cockiness of yours is getting on my nerves," she walked slowly toward him. "You see I'm just here to help."  
  
"I don't need your help," Harry chuckled. "No Willow, it's you that's going to need the help." He motioned to the people-his friends-standing just at the entrance to the kitchen. "Good thing you brought someone to mop you up when I'm done with you." He paused, for a moment, taking that time to run his eyes up and down her slight form. Sirius had been right. If she wasn't his doctor, she would have been perfect for him. Slim, lithe. Red hair just as he liked them. And the power, he had been able to feel it since she had walked into the room just five minutes ago. Whatever she had done to make her the most qualified to deal with his issues must have been big. Good for her. And for him come to think of it. He would need a pick me up soon if he continued to expend energy the way he had. Contrary to popular belief, the sound and light show he had been displaying since the darkness had taken hold used considerable energy which is why he had drained the spell books.  
  
"That's where you're wrong Harry," Willow smirked, finishing off the foul potion in the flask and putting it onto the counter. Laying a hand on Harry's shoulder she continued, leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear. "I'll be your salvation."  
  
That apparently was the last straw for Harry, and the reaction Willow had been trying to get from him was suddenly right in her face as she was suddenly thrown against the wall. The group standing by the door moved to help her up but she motioned to them that she was fine, putting up a force field around the entry into the kitchen as protection for what was about to happen.  
  
"Ow," she laughingly stood up, not hurt in the least. "Getting a little frisky aren't we Harry?"  
  
"Shut up," Harry sneered, stepping closer. "I think it's time that I start healing myself, don't you? And what better way than to give in to the very thing that's causing the problem in the first place?" He paused, chuckling bitterly. "It's not as if you'd all care."  
  
"Harry, that's not true!" Sirius called from the doorway.  
  
"Isn't it though?" Harry said silkily. "You all used me like a pawn. Every since my parents died, that's all I've ever been. The Boy Who Lived." He turned to the group that now consisted not only of Remus and Sirius, but of Hermione and Ron who had joined the remnants of the Marauders in support of Harry's recovery. "Whatever that means. Do any of you know what it's been like? Living up to the expectations? I get dumped at my aunt and uncles as a child and what happens? I do manual labour for 10 years, living my days in constant ridicule and suddenly I'm told that I'm a wizard and that the deadbeat parents I was told were killed in a car crash were actually killed by an evil and dark lord." He shrugged ironically. "Although I have to admit, school wasn't so bad, I met Hermione and Ron." He paused, "But then again I also had to deal with all of the other 'stuff.'" He turned to the group at the doorway yet again. "You know, Voldemort. Fudge. Snape."  
  
"Oh but then the fun REALLY begins. The wizarding world shuns me, I have to deal with nightmares sent by Voldemort and Sirius dies because of it." He turned to Sirius who was still standing in concern behind the force field Willow had put up. "Come to think of it mate, I have no idea how or why you're back. You'll have to tell me about it sometime. Oh wait." He paused, smirking. "You'll all be dead anyways so why do I care?"  
  
"Anyways," he continued, oblivious to the shocked stares he was now getting from his friends at his last words. "Then Dumbledore tells me that only I can kill Voldemort and when I eventually do, like the good little pawn that I am, I am shunned by the wizarding community because I have once again brushed too close to the dark side. Is it little wonder then that I might feel a betrayed when all but my closest friends actually treat me like a human being? Like Harry and not the-boy-who-lived-to-defeat-the-dark-lord-and-then-become-one-himself?"  
  
"Harry," Willow tried to break into his diatribe, anxious to bring him back from the precipice of anger he was currently skirting precariously.  
  
"Harry doesn't live here anymore," he cut his therapist off. "And it's my turn to talk. I don't want to hear any of your psycho babble shit right now. Back to the story then children?" He turned to the group by the door and brought down the shield Willow had erected earlier, drawing the four members of what represented his closest family in through the archway and sitting them down at the table currently empty in the centre of the room. "You all play a part don't you? It's only fair that you get the whole story."  
  
Willow looked on in a resigned fashion as she watched him pace the kitchen, all the while observing the now scared people sitting at the table. One way or the other she would get them out but now wasn't the time. Harry had yet to vent his anger and Willow knew that until he did, the anger would not dissipate, only continue to build until he didn't stop at talking to his closest friends that he felt had wronged him so. He would hurt them, killing them in the process of the probably arduous and long session and ultimately cross the last barrier that he hadn't yet crossed but Willow had: taking a human life. She was broken from her thoughts though as Harry steady voice started anew.  
  
"Do any of you really know me? You must not otherwise you would have seen this coming. You wouldn't have fuelled it and you certainly wouldn't have allowed Dumbledore to move me around like some chess piece at his beck and call. Sirius, you wouldn't be trying to fix me up with every redhead on the planet when you know that at the moment I've no patience for love and relationships. Remus, you would do well to observe that the shoulder you've supplied for me to lean on is not necessary and quite frankly is demeaning and as for you Ron and Hermione, you're supposed to be my best friends. I sat there at that Weasley family dinner as they brushed around the issue of my 'darkness' as if it never happened. Hell, both of you do the same thing. I AM A DIFFERENT PERSON. I am not the same little boy who went with you both to save the philosopher's stone from Quirrel back in first year so stop treating me like I am. You're friends with Harry Potter but you don't really know him." Another bitter laugh tore from his throat and he paused, clearly indulging in a small inner monologue unheard by anyone but Harry. "I don't even know him, I haven't been allowed to."  
  
"You all think that this is Voldemort talking, that he's using my body to accomplish his dark deeds but you're wrong. Voldemort was right, I like it and it's always been sitting there inside of me waiting to be unleashed at the right time. Well here it is and I've got to say, it feels good being me. FINALLY. Think you can still be my friends now?"  
  
"Harry, you need to stop this," Willow hissed in his ear, deciding that intervention was needed. "You're not going to have any friends left to insult if you don't soon."  
  
"And you," Harry turned, "thinking that you're 'helping me' or some such bullshit." He moved closer, stalking her. "Well," he chuckled lightly. "Maybe you can." He ran a hand down Willow's face, mockingly caressing it before trailing it lightly down her side and brushing against her breast. "Sirius was right." He turned to look at the man in question, smirking. "I'm sure he knows which conversation I'm referring to." He met Willow's eyes straight on, using his other hand to tip her defiant chin up. "But we really don't have time for that, now do we Red?"  
  
With a sigh, he removed his hands abruptly, thinking for a moment mockingly before continuing, "Come to think of it though, we DO have time for something else equally titillating." And with that, he threw a hand into Willow's chest, causing a scream to tear from her throat and tears to gather and fall. Harry continued onwards though, absorbing the magic that lay inside her but stopping as he abruptly felt something dislodge inside of him. "What did you do?" He asked as he felt something shut down, causing the magic that he had felt building ever since the nightmare woke him up to dissipate rapidly.  
  
"You see it's like this," Willow panted, suddenly able to move again as the hand withdrew from her chest. "The flask? It was full of a potion designed to strip you of your abilities to wield dark magic. You should be feeling yourself kind of deflate about now." She looked down towards his nether regions pointedly. "In more ways than one." She paused, running her own hand down his cheek in a mockery of what he had just done to her before trailing it down his chest to cup his groin, which had indeed begun to harden as he had perused her like a piece of meat only moments before. She squeezed lightly and Harry gasped, both in pain and pleasure as she tightened her grip on him just enough so that it hurt, a reminder of what would happen the next time his dark side decided to come on to her. She knew for a fact that Harry would never do that when he was himself. "Keep it in mind Harry," she continued, letting go as she felt his body begin to falter, losing strength as the effects of the potion she had drank began to take effect on his body and mind. "You're going to thank me later for this." She watched as Harry swayed before falling down completely from the abrupt draining of the potent magic from his person. She would let him sleep it off for now. After all, she still had work to do with his family and friends.


End file.
